"By the River of Ruin we lay and bled dry,
when we remembered Zharr-Naggrund.
There on the ashen banks,
we gasped in the mud,
for there our foes pulled our shamed beards,
our tormentors demanded admission of loss,
they growled, 'Now tell us of Zharr-Naggrund!'

How can we tell of the city of the Father,
while in an outcast land?
If I forget you, Zharr-Naggrund,
may my soul be grisly devoured come death.
May my ravaged head be displayed on a pike,
if I do not remember you,
if I do not consider Zharr-Naggrund,
to be my gravest loss.

Remember, o Father, what the Black Orcs did,
on the day Zharr-Naggrund burned.
'Tear it down,' they roared,
'tear it down to its foundations!'
Bastard Tamurkhan, doomed to destruction,
blessed be the one who repays you,
for what you have done to us.
Happy is the one who seizes your infants,
and dashes them against the rocks.

By the River of Ruin we lay and bled dry,
when we remembered Zharr-Naggrund."